A Waltz For Two
by alchemic-rose
Summary: One might not be alone as she might think when a young maid takes a break from chores to dance. PruHun oneshot.


Elizaveta sneezed as dust flew from her feather duster. She covered her mouth as the involuntary action convulsed her body a second time. Straightening her posture, she fixed her tousled hair, throwing it back over her shoulder and checking if the handkerchief that held it back was still in place.

The young maid returned to the intricate clockwork piece she was dusting, a tall oak grandfather clock, and then placed the duster in one of the pockets of her apron. She turned from the clock, now dust free, and scanned the ballroom she had just finished cleaning.

It was a grand room, the largest room in the estate in which she worked and resided. The ceiling, which stood high above the polished floor, was molded with reliefs of the edelweiss flower and washed to a pristine white. Four golden chandeliers hung from the light ceiling and when lit, shone with a heavenly brilliance as light refracted off of the many delicately cut crystals. The wallpaper, a strong royal blue, was decorated with intricately woven tapestries and masterpiece paintings. The floor of the ballroom was a wood work masterpiece. The baseboards were a dark mahogany and woven in a criss- cross pattern were light birch wood planks, accented with russet redwood. Elizaveta had mopped and shined the floor to an almost mirror-like surface earlier that afternoon. Light streamed in from the many glass paned patio doors that lined the far wall of the ballroom. These doors led out to the garden terrace. A grand piano stood at one corner of the room, its ebony surface reflecting the ceiling above and shining in the light from the patio. It was one of the many pianos that resided in the grand estate; this one, in particular, was only played in the company of guests. Decorated tables, lavish plush chairs and couches lined the walls. Each carved table was draped with a deep green and ivory embroidered table runner, and held on display a statuette, flower arrangement, intricate clock or other a varied centerpiece designed to reflect the current season or holiday.

Elizaveta walked to the center of the room, her boot heels clicking against the polished floor. She removed the feather duster from her pocket and placed it on the floor. She smoothed her pale green dress and wiped the remnant dust off of her white apron. Touching the pink flower in her hair, she smiled and then moved her arms out from her body; one arm gently curved out from her torso, parallel to the floor and the other arched up above her head. She stretched out a foot, pointing her toe, poised into a dance pose. Elizaveta thought to herself, " Roderich is away and little Feliciano is in his room asleep, I am allowed my own world for just a moment." Her cleaning was done, for now, so the young woman did one of the things she loved to do most: dance.

The young Hungarian woman pivoted on one foot, bringing the other up and down gracefully. She twirled again, skirt rising up, revealing her red hose for a moment as she whirled. Elizaveta spun again and again, her russet hair whirling about her as she picked up her feet, one after the other, faster and faster. She laughed as she let her arms fly out to her sides, a euphoria radiating from her. Her spinning slowed, her skirt drifted back down to her boots and her hands back down to her sides. The young maid took a few breaths, her green eyes shining with energy. She grasped the sides of her skirt in her hands and curtsied to an invisible partner. She brought her hands up to position and began to waltz. This particular dance was still a bit foreign to her feet; as she was more accustomed to the fast, leaping dances of her youth.

"One, two, three… one, two, three… one, two…" Elizaveta whispered to herself as she slowly moved across the floor. She pretended to be twirled by her invisible partner, her wavy hair softly falling across her shoulders. She closed her eyes as she eased into the pattern of the dance, her heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. A phantom tune played in her head as she waltzed, causing her to smile and sigh.

Elizaveta felt a strong hand grasp her raised hand and another be placed around her waist; heavier footsteps fell in step with her own light footwork. She opened her eyes in surprise and they meet with a dark blue uniform. Her gaze traveled upward to see an iron cross pendant, then to pale lips that held a smirk all the way to crimson gaze of her old friend and rival.

"Gilbert!" she exclaimed in surprise at the sight of the platinum-haired man, and caused her to falter a step. He laughed at her surprised tone, twirling her out and back to him.

"What are you doing here?!" she exclaimed as she moved to get out of his hold. Gilbert griped her tighter, pulling her to him as they continued to dance.

"Is it such a surprise to see me?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

She attempted to escape again, pulling at his grip on her hand.

"This…" she grunted as she failed to free her hand.

"This is Roderich's house!" she exclaimed. Elizaveta began an assault on the Prussian's feet with her own, scoring a hit which caused him to wince in pain. Gilbert looked down and frantically avoided her boots, spinning the two of them into an odd, fast-paced frenzy of a dance.

"Ow!" he exclaimed as his foot took another blow from her boot heel.

"The door- ah! –was open…" he said with difficulty.

"So-... I let myself-… in!"

He spun her about again, halting her assault on his boots but causing her to become unbalanced. He pulled her back to him so she wouldn't fall; she collided against his chest. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, pressing her to him.

"Plus… you looked like a total wallflower dancing by yourself." He murmured as he looked down at her.

Elizaveta glared up at him, her chin pressing against his chest. Gilbert smirked in response to her glare. She released her hold on her dress hem, gathering her hand into a fist.

"Get." She started as she punched his side while simultaneously stomping hard on his foot. "Off!"

He let out a pained "Ouf!"as he reflexively released her hand to grip his side, and his grip on her waist loosened. She spun out of his hold and watched him as he bent over, gripping his side as he regained his breath; his trampled foot was raised slightly off the ground. Gilbert gave her a glare from underneath his platinum locks, which she returned with sticking out her tongue. She stood, with her hands on her hips and gave out a harsh laugh of victory. He lowered his foot to the ground and straightened his posture, having recovered his breath, and looked at the brunette with a mixed expression of irritation, amusement, and affection.

She crossed her arms and said indignantly, "I am perfectly fine with dancing by myself."

Gilbert rolled his eyes at her statement and straightened out his uniform jacket. He brought a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat; he placed that hand behind his back and offered his other hand to Elizaveta. He brought his gaze to hers.

"May I have this dance?" he asked with a slight bow.

The brunette looked at Gilbert with suspicion, narrowing her eyes. She looked into his crimson orbs in search of any sign of trickery or his usual mocking arrogance. Her gaze softened as she found no trace of his general cockiness or immature attitude in his honest eyes. He truly _wanted_ to dance with her.

She uncrossed her arms slowly, drifting them to her sides; her left hand moved to clutch her skirt. She placed her right hand in his and allowed him to escort her to the center of the ballroom. The pair stopped and then faced each other. Gilbert gave a proper bow which Elizaveta returned with a fluid curtsy. He took her left hand in his and placed his right hand lightly on her waist. She reached up and rested her right hand on his broad shoulder, then glanced up at her friend. He returned her gaze and gave a genuine smile. She blushed slightly, and gave a chaste smile of her own.

Gilbert stepped back and led Elizaveta into the first step of their waltz. She followed his lead, synchronizing her steps to his and they gilded across the intricate wooden floor. After a few paces, she glanced down at their feet, watching them move together across the patterned floorboards. Elizaveta brought her gaze from their feet to see Gilbert looking at her. His eyes held an emotion, so deep and raw, it took her by surprise. When he saw her notice his gaze, he turned his face away, and twirled her, hiding a blush that rose on his pale cheeks. Her skirt billowed about her as she turned. Her hand was let go and she continued to twirl, letting her hands fly out, and a bright smile rise to her face.

Gilbert stood in place and watched the young Hungarian woman twirl, and smiled at her smile.

Her twirling slowly came to a halt, her arms and skirt drifted from their orbit and back to her body. She turned back to Gilbert, who bowed to her. Coming up from his bow, he smirked and said in his normal mocking tone.

"Thank you for the dance frӓulein."

She curtsied and retorted. "My pleasure… dummkopf."

Gilbert laughed at the insult as he paced backwards from Elizaveta a few steps. He turned and walked to the garden doors, where he paused with his hand on the doorframe. He looked back at Elizaveta and said, "I'm surprised… you can actually dance like a decent girl! I thought you would tromp about like a Jötunn."

Elizaveta's jaw dropped and her face began to turn red with rage. He laughed and ran out the door before she could find something to throw at him.

"YOU-!" she started, but stopped her loud exclamation, as it would wake little Feliciano. She stalked over to her forgotten feather duster and swiped it from the ground. She shoved it in her pocket, steaming with rage.

"That man!" she grumbled darkly under her breath. She unclenched her fists and looked at her hands. Her eyes softened and her demeanor calmed, as a sudden emotion rose in her chest. She clasped her hands together and brought them to her beating chest.

"That man…" she whispered.


End file.
